


John Keats Imagines

by AllessaRen2198



Series: John Keats' Poems Turned Modern Fanfic angsty [2]
Category: KEATS John - Works, Ode to a Nightingale - John Keats
Genre: F/M, I Made Myself Cry, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:23:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7714744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllessaRen2198/pseuds/AllessaRen2198
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically I write imagines based on his poems. Which are life.<br/>Gifted to Kidamon180 who is a wonderful co-author and author in thanks for helping me with Kylo&Kiratta.<br/>And also to Trash_Baby who can simply make me smile, an unattainable feat for most.<br/>To HeartofDreamer, NutHeadGee, ElmiDol, and so many others.<br/>Keep writing everyone! And Merry Christmas!<br/>-Allessa</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ode To A Nightingale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kidamon180](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kidamon180/gifts), [Trash_Baby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_Baby/gifts), [HeartOfDreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfDreamer/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [NutheadGee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NutheadGee/gifts).



> In which the reader reflects

 

 

_My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains_

 

I stare into the void of darkness around me

 

_My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,_

_Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains_

 

The bottle of wine, half empty, half gone.

 

  
_One minute past_ p  _and Lethe-wards had sunk:_

_'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,_

 

Am I happy? Now that he is gone? Now that my pain should be over?

 

_But being too happy in thine happiness,—_

_That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees_

 

Outside my window, a nightingale croons a lullaby and I am taken back in time.

To hours spent laughing in false joy, so in love, so far from reality itself.

 

_In some melodious plot_

_Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,_

_singest of summer in full-throated ease._

 

The summer breeze, his favorite season, floats past the window and I fall to my knees.

Oh, but how my heart seized with every breath, for now, he is gone.

 

  
_O, for a draught of vintage! that_ _hath_ _been_

_Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,_

_Tasting of Flora and the country green,_

 

I wonder what he would be doing. Would he be with her? Surely as he loved her. So true was his love, shining out from his soul. And I would smile, laugh, pretend. 

_Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!_

_O for a beaker full of the warm South,_

_Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,_

_With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,_

_And purple-stained mouth;_

 

Would I have attended their wedding? Watched their children grow? No, surely not. Yes, I would have sailed far away. To a place where I could pretend that every word he wrote had been for me. Every smile was an effect and I the cause. 

 

_That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,_

_And with thee fade away into the forest dim:_

 

I pick up the discarded bottle and stare into the depths of the liquid, hoping to drown out my sorrows 'till morning. Wishing I could disappear. 

 

_Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget_

_What thou among the leaves hast never known,_

_The weariness, the fever, and the fret_

 

I laugh once, a dull sound. How could I have been so naive? How could I have believed that he would ever see me as he did her? And yet I let my heart be captured by him. He who called me  _friend_ and her  _lover._ Her who never knew his secrets, his deepest dreams, his every breath. Her, whom when he left, sought me for comfort. Begged me for truth. Her who I sent away in my own grief.

  
_Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;_

_Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,_

_Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;_

_Where but to think is to be full of sorrow_

_And leaden-eyed despairs,_

 

_Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,_

_Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow._

 

I sigh as I look back to the moon. It shines in what seems like sorrow. The night is silent. The Nightingale gone, and all of my dreams crushed to dust by cold reality. 

    

 

_Away! away! for I will fly to thee,_

_Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,_

_But on the viewless wings of Poesy,_

_Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:_

 

My heart in pieces, my breath short and unstable, I gaze out to the night. I want him here, back with me where he belonged. Before she came along to take him. She who believed he was hers. She who believed she deserved his gentle soul. She who killed him with her love.

 

_Already with thee! tender is the night,_

_And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,_

_Cluster'd around by all her starry  Fays;_

_But here there is no light,_

_Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown_

_Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways._

 

And yet, I know that even if she had never entered our lives, I would never have had him as mine. For he was too gentle, his love too good, his spirit too pure. For I am surely the Devil's right hand, if I wish death and defeat upon her now. What kind of woman am I? One who is broken hearted? Surely not. One who is good? No, I am defeated, alone, forgotten in their grief.

 

_I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,_

_Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,_

_But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet_

_Wherewith the seasonable month endows_

_The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;_

_White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;_

  
_Fast fading violets_ _cover'd_ _up in leaves;_

_And mid-May's eldest child,_

 

As I breathe in clean air and let the bottle shatter I know. 

 

_The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,_

_The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves._

 

I was never meant to feel his love. To listen to his words, feel his breath, his love, his devotion.

 

_Darkling I listen; and, for many a time_

_I have been half in love with easeful Death,_

_Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,_

_To take into the air my quiet breath;_

 

I am grateful I am alone, no one here to see my devastation. To hear my cries for mercy. My pleas for redemption.      

 

_Now more than ever seems it rich to die,_

_To cease upon the midnight with no pain,_

_While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad_

_In such an ecstasy!_

  
_Still w_ _ouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—_

_To thy high requiem become a sod._

 

I wish I was a bird, that I could fly away from my misery here. That I could never see her face again and hear his name fall from her lips. That I could be free.

 

_Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!_

_No hungry generations tread thee down;_

  
_The voice I hear this passing night was heard_

_In ancient days by emperor and clown:_

_Perhaps the self-same song that found a path_

Perhaps the worst of it is to see the truth, of his love for her in all the letters he sent. I remember the butterflies, the poems, never for me.

 

_Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,_

_She stood in tears amid the alien corn;_

_The same that oft-times hath_

_Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam_

_Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn._

 

I now know what he would want were he still here. And so I stand tall and dress. As I stare at my doorway I make my choice and exit.

_Forlorn! the very word is like a bell_

_To toll me back from thee to my sole self!_

I take a breath outside her door. Hidden in shadows of the morning sunrise.

 

_Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well_

  
_As she is_ _fam'd_ _to do, deceiving elf._

 

I look to the sky and smile. Goodbye, my love. I shall see you again.

 

 

_Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades_

_Past the near meadows, over the still stream,_

  
_Up the hill-side; and now '_ _tis_ _buried deep_

_In the next valley-glades:_

 

I raise a hand and knock twice. My parasol is shaking so I place it towards the ground. I must remain steady for this. It is imperative she never knows.

 

_Was it a vision, or a waking dream?_

_Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?_

 

"Yes, Fanny. May I come in?" 


	2. Bright Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the reader remembers a memory of John and quotes his last sonnet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw John is represented as Ben Whishaw who played him PERFECTLY in the amazing movie "Bright Star"

It is a memory that comes to me as I sit under  _his_ tree.

 

_Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art--_

 

His voice like a song on the breeze blowing softly through my hair. 

 

 

_Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night_

_And watching, with eternal lids apart,_

 

My eyes flutter closed as I listen to the world around me, lamenting my hearts desires in my head

 

_Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,_  
_The moving waters at their priestlike task_

 

I imagine a river, John smiling in the water as I recline on the shore, laughing alongside him

  
_Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,_  
_Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask_  
_Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--_

 

Our love would have been the brightest of all, consuming the hate around us and replacing it with joy

  
_No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,_  
_Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,_  
_To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,_

 

Then I remember he was never mine to lose, and my sweet happy daydreams crash to the earth.

  
_Awake forever in a sweet unrest,_  
_Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,_  
_And so live ever--or else swoon to death._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm debating making these about Kylo Ren in another book. Let me know. :) If you want that, that is.


	3. Ode To Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My dream"

 

 

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;  
Conspiring with him how to load and bless

 

_Waiting in the shadows for my chance to come_

_And suddenly it is there_

_I cry out and he turns_

_His face lights up_

_And for a moment he is mine_

_Then her name leaves his lips_

_His dream not mine_

 

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;  
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,  
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;  
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

 

_Holding him as he creates his wonders_

_Watching the world through his eyes_

_She gives him a kiss_

  
_Her dream not mine_  
       

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,  
And still more, later flowers for the bees,  
Until they think warm days will never cease,  
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

 

_His smile so bright as he lays in his tree_

_I watch as he makes her a masterpiece_

_An ode to a bird_

  
**_Their dream never mine_**

 

 

__________________________________________________  
 

 

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?  
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,

 

_I_ _t is I who watches over him as he lays_

_Sleep filled with fitful dreams_

_Yet it is her name he calls out in the darkest moments of the night_

_When no one can witness my tears_      

 

 

Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;  
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,  
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook

 

_When morning comes he will wake to her face_

_Of love and devotion_

_And I will stand waiting for the time_

_When we may be together_

 

 

Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:

And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep  
Steady thy laden head across a brook;  
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,  
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

 

**_When my dream will take flight_ **

**_To wings of song_ **

**____________________________________________ **

  
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?  
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—  
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

 

_He is gone_

_His spirit drifted away to a brighter star_

_She is crying_

_Broken_

_I am alone_

_Forgotten_

 

And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn  
Among the river sallows, borne aloft  
       

_In her grief she almost forgets me_  

_When she remembers she holds open her arms_

_"Let us cry together friend, sister."_

_She says as I join her_

_"He always said the strangest thing about you, though."_

_I frown_

_"That I was his bright star, and that you were the Oasis he would meet in the end."_

 

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;

_My heart soars with wonder_

_I smile and she turns_

_"So, what does it mean?"_

_"It means Fanny, that he will be happy with his Oasis in the arms of his Bright Star"_

 

And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;  
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft  
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;  
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

 

_As I leave I smile towards the sky_

_"You always knew. My Oasis. Dearest John you truly are someone to admire."_

**_Finally, my story has a forgotten pathway, a would be, a could've been_ **

**_And for now that is enough_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have noticed some awkward formatting of the text so imma fix that.at some point.


	4. Sonnet To Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Lullaby Sung To John

O soft embalmer of the still midnight!

 

_When daylight turns to darkness_

_When you dream of gold and light_

_Let my voice guide you_

_Be your candle in the night_

  
Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,

 

_In dreams, I will guide you_

_In your thoughts, I'll hold your hand_

_Sweet love, I will provide you_

_My lovely wayward man_

  
Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light,  
    Enshaded in forgetfulness divine;

 

_Love I will provide you_

_Hope will keep you strong_

_My arms shall wrap around you_

_And hold on till dawn_

  
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close,  
    In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes.

_So darling please rest easy_

_Sweetling, take my hand_

_Listen to my lullaby_

_And then_

  
Or wait the Amen, ere thy poppy throws  
    Around my bed its lulling charities;  
    Then save me, or the passed day will shine  
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;

 

_When morning comes you'll wake_

_The day will shine bright_

_And she will guide you forward_

_Your bright star_

  
Save me from curious conscience, that still hoards  
Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;

 

_But remember this, my love,_

_When you fall asleep_

  
    Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,  
And seal the hushed casket of my soul.

_I will be here to guide you_

_through your dreams_

________________________________________________

 

So this a lullaby I actually wrote for my kids when I was like 15 in my English class one day. I honestly cannot wait to share it with them. So PLEASE DON'T USE IT unless you have explicit permission because it is close to my heart. I know I can't stop you but you can stop yourself

 


	5. When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Many Reasons Why

When I have fears that I may cease to be  
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,

 

_The shock has yet to leave and be replaced by tears_

_"Y/N I'm sorry but I must focus on my work"_

  
Before high piled books, in charactry,  
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain;

_"You know I will always love ou. You are my oasis. My escape."_

_I can only shake_

_This must be a dream_

  
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,  
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,

_"I will come back to you, my love_

_Before I cease to be_

_Before the night closes in"_

  
And think that I may never live to trace

Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;

 

_"Do not wait for me_

_Find someone who can love you more than I can"_

  
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,  
That I shall never look upon thee more,

_"And  if I do not want someone else?"_

  
Never have relish in the faery power  
Of unreflecting love; -- then on the shore

 

_He stays silent_

_"This is about her is it not?"_

  
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think  
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.

 

_"Yes. I love you Y/N. But you know we were only ever a dream."_

 

_I fall to my knees. "Did you like the edream?"_

 

_His smile is sad and yet honest_

 

_"You know it will always hold the biggest place in my heart._

_......................... I knew then he would never be mine. He would never return._


	6. On A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Encounter That Started It All.....

As Hermes once took to his feathers light  
 When lulled Argus, baffled, swoon'd and slept,

 

_I strolled through the quiet park smiling to myself._

_"Miss? Is there a reason you are alone?"  A beautiful man with midnight hair and shining eyes began to walk next to me._

_"I am John Keats and I shall walk you home"_

  
So on a Delphic reed my idle spright  
 So play'd, so charm'd, so conquer'd, so bereft  
The dragon-world of all its hundred eyes,

 

_"You are very beautiful Miss Y/N."_

_I blush and smile_

_"Like a bird flying through the sky at high noon! Or the sun shining on the water. Like an Oasis. My Oasis."_

_"Your's mister Keats?"_

_"Who else's?"_

  
 And, seeing it asleep, so fled away:  
Not to pure Ida with its snow-cold skies,  
 Nor unto Tempe where Jove griev'd a day;

 

_"A lovely night it is. Why are you alone?"_

_"My mother left early so I closed up the shop. My friend Fanny required her help for something."_

_"Hmmm, lucky I caught you"_

  
But to that second circle of sad hell,  
 Where 'mid the gust, the whirlwind, and the flaw  
Of rain and hail-stones, lovers need not tell

 

_"Is that Fanny?"_

_"Yes. She really is lovely. You two will get on wonderfully. Now the wedding- John?"_

  
 Their sorrows. Pale were the sweet lips I saw,  
Pale were the lips I kiss'd, and fair the form  
I floated with, about that melancholy storm.

 

_"She took you from me! We were getting married, John! You said you loved me! That I was yours! Did it mean nothing!?"_

_I threw the plate at the wall and turned to tear up the poem._

_And I stopped._

_Instead, I hugged the tiny slip of paper from that night so long ago._

_And cried for his heart that used to be mine_


End file.
